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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26320528">A Helping Hand</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sneaky_Apostate/pseuds/Sneaky_Apostate'>Sneaky_Apostate</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Protective Fenris, references to violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:49:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,197</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26320528</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sneaky_Apostate/pseuds/Sneaky_Apostate</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Merrill runs into some trouble with the templars. Luckily, Fenris is there to help.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fenris/Merrill (Dragon Age)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Black Emporium 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Helping Hand</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tafka/gifts">Tafka</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lowtown had a certain charm to it at night, Merrill would readily admit. Or, at least, it <em> would </em>have had a lovely charm to it, were three templars not blocking her way into the tavern. </p><p>“Moons aren’t even out, girl,” the tallest of the bunch said. “Lots of criminals walking these streets. Looking for easy prey.” </p><p>Merrill felt the familiar thrum of annoyance run through her. </p><p><em> They’ll find none here, </em> she thought briefly, something bloodied and angry rushing through her fingers, but she stamped it down with a smile. </p><p>“Oh, I haven’t seen any tonight,” she replied amicably, seemingly unaffected by the sight of armed human templars staring her down. “Perhaps they’re talking a night off - I think that would be good for them, don’t you? Everyone should take a break now and then.” </p><p>Internally, she grimaced; perhaps that was a <em> little </em>too snide to pass as totally innocent. </p><p>One of the templars scowled, stepping forward and towering over her - seeking to intimidate her as all human men tried to - but Merrill had dealt with demons for years, and wasn’t affected simply because this one was wearing a different skin. </p><p>“Or maybe you just aren’t worried about them because you’re an apostate,” the templar said, his friends nodding along with him. “Easy not to be worried about some criminals when you know you’re the <em>real</em> danger.” </p><p>In any other situation, she might’ve taken that as a compliment. As it was, she simply giggled. </p><p>“An apostate? I can barely remember where I left my shoes!” She glanced down at her noticeably bare feet and shrugged. “Oh, rats; I’ve done it again.” </p><p>The templars weren’t particularly amused. </p><p>“I think we ought to take you somewhere for some questioning,” one said, receiving agreeing grunts from his companions. </p><p>Merrill’s fist clenched, thrumming and at the ready, but she plastered a smile on her face. </p><p>“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary, surely we can”- </p><p>A voice interrupted her. </p><p>“Where have you <em> been </em>?” </p><p>Merrill blinked, turning to the side to see <em> Fenris, </em> of all people, making his way towards her from the nearby street. He was staring intently at her, adamantly ignoring the templar presence beside her, and Merrill frowned slightly at the strange amount of emotion on his face. Not that it was... <em> odd </em>for Fenris to have emotions, that is, but Merrill was certainly not used to many being directed her way. </p><p>Well, except for some annoyance. </p><p>“Fenris?” She asked, tilting her head as he came closer. “What’re you”- </p><p>Her eyes widened to dish platters as he reached out with one arm and tugged her against his chest. A furious red flush went across her cheeks, and everything in her head went totally blank as the man sighed above her. </p><p>“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Fenris said, strangely sincere and utterly unlike him. He pulled back, a frown tugging at his brow. “I... apologise for our argument; I didn’t mean to upset you and make you leave.” </p><p>Merrill’s mind was white noise in the shock of his touch, still fumbling to register his words. She glanced up at him, and noticed that, underneath his reservedly apologetic expression, there was an intensity to his eyes; he was trying to convey something to her without speaking. </p><p>She had to stop herself from shaking her head as she realised that this was a ploy.</p><p>“Oh,” Merrill said slowly, nodding up at Fenris to try and communicate that she understood. “Right, yes. That’s okay.” She paused, glancing around awkwardly for a moment before quickly adding on, "Thank you for your apology. I was very angry when you insulted my - er...<em>whittling</em>." </p><p><em>Whittling?</em> She groaned internally. </p><p>The templars had been watching their exchange closely and with no small amount of confusion. The man closest to them frowned. </p><p>“You know this woman?” He asked, addressing Fenris. </p><p>The elf in question stiffened, straightening up to his full height and staring at the human. Merrill had noticed his tendency to slouch before, though she’d always assumed it was due to the weight of the longsword strapped across his back. However, now that he held himself at his full height, she realised there may have been another, strategic tactic at play; a smaller man is always underestimated, and it was a mistake that had no doubt been fatal for many a slaver. </p><p>It was a mistake that the templar too was now realising that he had made, and was rapidly recalculating his approach. </p><p>Fenris, as casually as he could manage for one so unused to contact, pulled Merrill closer towards him.  </p><p>“I know her,” he replied to the earlier question, voice low. “She’s my wife.” </p><p>She knew it was a ploy, but there was something just so utterly <em> alien </em>about hearing those words come from Fenris, of all people. Perhaps it was due to the proximity and warmth of the usually cold elf, but Merrill was unable to stop a furious blush from running across her cheeks. </p><p>“Yes,” she added abruptly. “He’s my...er, husband.” </p><p><em> Brilliant, Merrill </em> , she thought with an inward grimace. <em> I’m sure that was completely convincing. </em> <br/>She furtively cast a glance up at the other elf to see if he was trying to hold back an eyeroll at her terrible performance, but his expression was absolutely firm as he stared at the templar opposite them. </p><p>She couldn’t blame the humans’ hesitation. Their armour was too shiny and too polished; these were new recruits, brash and arrogant, eager to shed their share of blood but as of yet had not a drop to their name. These were men who expected starved and weak mages, easily subdued with a silence so they could be carried to the Gallows as trophies. They were not expecting <em> resistance.  </em></p><p>Especially not from an elf like Fenris. Merrill knew perfectly well what they were seeing in him as a potential opponent; a steel-like resolve in his expression, the sheer ease in which he lugged around that massive sword of his - which, in all likelihood, he had not yet cleaned from his day’s work. All of this, added with his full height, made one intimidating foe for a group of green brutes. </p><p>Decision made, their leader scowled. </p><p>“Be on your way then,” he said, still trying to maintain whatever ground he could by using a threatening tone. “Back to the alienage with you lot.” </p><p>Fenris remained unaffected by the tone, and none-too-gently directed Merrill to turn around, back into the direction of her home. </p><p>“Good evening,” was all he said in reply to the men, firmly setting off and not glancing back. </p><p>Merrill, curious creature that she would always be, tried to crane her neck and spot them but Fenris stopped her with a shake of his head. </p><p>It was only once they were back into the alienage, away from prying eyes, that Fenris stepped away from her, putting a firm few steps between them. </p><p>“Have those demons addled your mind already, witch?” He growled, low and quietly furious. </p><p>She raised her eyebrows, but shook her head. </p><p>“Not that I’m aware of,” Merrill replied. “Why does nobody believe that I’m actually quite skilled at warding off demon manipulation? I know more about it than <em> you </em> do.” </p><p>Fenris looked at her as though she'd sprouted horns. </p><p>“Perhaps because you seem to think it’s a wise idea to greet templars in the middle of the night?” He said, scorn in his words. “As though they’re not going to think <em>that’s</em> suspicious.” </p><p>She frowned. </p><p>“I wasn’t greeting them, Fenris, they approached <em>me</em>,” Merrill corrected him, indignant in her stubbornness. “Besides, I could have dealt with them easily - you know that.” </p><p>He shook his head, scowling. </p><p>“And when the Knight Commander sends more templars to track down the culprit of her disappearing recruits?” Fenris asked, crossing his arms. “Will you deal with them too?” </p><p>She paused, her own lip pulling into a scowl as she knew he was right and it made her stubbornly furious. Who was <em> he </em> to lecture her about safety when he lived alone in the former mansion of his old slaver? </p><p>“I don’t need you to lecture me about how to deal with templars,” Merrill muttered, fists clenching. “I’ve dealt with them all my life.” </p><p>“You’ve dealt with them with the backing of your clan,” Fenris said, not unkindly. “I’m not lecturing you, I’m trying to make you understand how much of a target you are in this city.” </p><p>She stiffened and straightened herself up, briefly feeling the sharp absence of her staff in her hands to support her. </p><p>“I’m <em> well </em>aware, Fenris,” she replied coolly. “So I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time.” </p><p>This apparently didn’t seem to meet his requirements either, and he hissed something low under his breath in Tevene - she suspected it was nothing appropriate. </p><p>“Are you even listening to me, witch?” He growled, and gestured back towards the way they’d come. “I’m not always going to be around to save you.” He ran a hand through his hair, almost baffling in his frustration. “What would have happened if I hadn’t been close by?” </p><p>It suddenly hit her with a frightening sort of simplicity. </p><p>“You’re... concerned,” Merrill said, eyes widening. She stepped forward, latching onto her realisation. “You’re actually worried...about <em> me </em>?” </p><p>He didn’t move away from her, gaze low and watching her intently, and despite all of his strength and the still-bloodied sword on his back, his expression managed to have something quietly vulnerable about it. </p><p>“Is it that surprising?” He asked, flat and unreadable. </p><p>She blinked and glanced down at her feet, suddenly a little bashful. </p><p>“Well, yes<em>, </em> ” Merrill answered, shuffling in place. “I thought you <em> hated </em>me.” </p><p>There was a beat of silence. </p><p>“I pity you,” Fenris replied without a shred of shame.  </p><p>She flinched back as though he’d shouted the words, and she felt something like fury come over her. </p><p>“I don’t need your <em> pity</em>,” she snapped back, quiet in her anger but no less biting. “Believe me or not, but I <em> am </em>capable; I am not a tragedy waiting to happen. I <em>know </em>what I am doing.” </p><p>“Maybe so,” Fenris replied without hesitation, “but I’ve seen stronger mages than you succumb to less.” </p><p>She turned away, facing the vhenadahl and briefly wondered if Mythal herself was watching her folly too. </p><p>“So you think I’m weak?” Merrill asked lowly, remembering the sneering faces of her clanmates and their barbed words.</p><p>
  <em> That curse took two of our own, what makes you think you’re any stronger than they were?  </em>
</p><p>To her surprise, Fenris snorted. </p><p>“I doubt it,” he replied with a hint of his usual dryness. He sobered, and met her eyes, once more startling her with his intensity. “But having power doesn’t mean you won’t get hurt.” </p><p>Her anger softened, recognising his concern for what it was. She held herself high as she calmly closed the distance between them, staring up at him firmly. </p><p>“Anyone can be hurt, Fenris,” Merrill told him quietly, and reached out to gently place her hand on his shoulder. “I <em>know</em> what I’m doing. I need you to respect that.” </p><p>His eyes were drawn down to where she was touching him, and for a moment, she feared that she had overstepped. But something in him softened, and he reached up to briefly cover her hand with his own for a moment - the touch warm and strangely comforting - before he stepped away with a nod. </p><p>“Very well,” he replied, low but sincere. </p><p>There was something unsaid there, she knew, as he glanced up to meet her gaze; something deeper that neither of them were comfortable addressing yet and so it lingered in the tense air between them and the heart tree of the alienage. </p><p>Finally, she cleared her throat, pulling away to stare longingly at the door to her home. </p><p>“I’d invite you in for tea, but I’m afraid I can’t,” she said with a shrug. “I’ve been evicted.” </p><p>Fenris made a choked noise. </p><p>“<em>What? </em>” He hissed, brow furrowing at the absurdity of her only having brought this up now. </p><p>Her eyes widened, and she rushed to continue. </p><p>“Oh, no; not like that,” Merrill said dismissively, waving a hand. She smiled calmly as she explained. “There’s a very large rat in there. I’ve named him Reginald, after that sailor that Isabela introduced us to last week - do you remember him? He stole Hawke’s purse, and this rat stole my bread so I was very cross, but I remembered that he needed a name, so”-</p><p>Fenris, who had been listening to her tirade with a steadily-growing wooden expression, finally cut her off with his now-familiar Tevene curse. He reached up to pull his sword down from across his back and gave her a meaningful glance. </p><p>“You deal with the tea,” Fenris said, a hint of exasperation in his voice, “I’ll deal with the rat.” </p><p>“Reginald,” she helpfully corrected him as he turned and strode off towards the door to her house. </p><p>She watched him for a few moments, still quite pleasantly surprised with the new territory they were treading, but then shrugged and ambled her way over to follow him inside. </p><p>It was, after all, always nice to accept help when one needed it most. </p><p> </p>
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